This hilltop outside Park City, Utah found itself in the spotlight when the clouds broke in the right direction.
Fires in the dry, brush-filled country of the American West can be a serious problem. Driving along the Interstate, we saw the ash-carpeted remains of one. The wind whipped the fine particles into a vertical column at the crest of this hill.
Adding to my collections of homesteads in places like Vermont and Wyoming is today’s shot from outside Park City, Utah. Looking closely, you can see the array of vehicles in the landscape, looking extra-miniature against the mountains beyond.
Crossing the American West last winter, I was struck by the profound changes to the landscape affected by large-scale infrastructure programs. Rural electrification resulted in an expectation of electrical availability, and power lines now stretch to the horizon.
In much the same way, lines of Interstate highway curve off to the distance, twinned East and West streams.
Assembled by the same volcanic activity, California’s Mt. Shasta (left) and Black Butte (right) make for charming mirror-world contrasts of each other, like The Magician’s Ember and Umber.
Along Interstate 80, stretches of winter Wyoming are wide and barren like I wouldn’t have believed.
In a few stretches, mountains or wind farms crop up in the distance.
But it’s perhaps this image of an orange house, like something from a mid-twentieth-century landscape painting, that best captures the experience.
During last winter’s road trip from New York to California, we were struck by the sheer scale of the American West: one step off the Interstate drops you into an enormous expanse. At the edge of Wyoming’s Black Hills, there’s a Bob-Ross-ian grandeur to enjoy.